Stealing You
by ravenromance27
Summary: AU. A bored assassin, an eager untried thief and a book that holds limitless power. They both wanted freedom at any cost but would they be willing to trade everything in exchange for the life they both desired?


**Authors Note:**

Standard Disclaimer stands. Naruto and all its relevant characters belong to the genius that is Kishimoto even if that ending seemed to have been written when he was deep in the throes of an LSD and Absinthe-laced hallucination. For the time being, I am merely borrowing them.

Now to clarify—this story has been adopted from a friend who had the initial idea but lost any drive to further it along. Now the characters in here are a bit older—most of them would be in their early twenties. They do not belong to the world where the original characters reside. In this respect, they are not the same individuals though they may display skills and attitudes that we have grown familiar to. I leave it to the audience to discover in what ways they differ from the original. That being said, they still possess the same inherent thread of fun and intrigue that made the series so addictive.

Please enjoy—I certainly had fun thinking up situations for the grown up versions of these memorable characters.

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><p><strong>Act One:<strong>

**OF THINGS LATELY FASHIONABLE**

"**Destiny grants us our wishes, but in its own way, **

**In order to give us something beyond our wishes."**

_Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_

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><p><em><strong>3:00 A.M.<strong>_

_**Central Konoha**_

_**Fire Nation**_

The night was quiet and unusually cool despite the day being well into the summer months and Genma found himself once again stuck inside the confines of his dark, empty office with a table lamp, a quietly humming computer and a battered orange book to make up for an absolutely dismal form of company. The evening sky was clear though—nary a cloud or star in sight and he wonders if that would spell early rains or just the kind of balmy weather that made everything and everyone feel like they're melting from inside out.

His hand, idly making notations on his station's keyboard a moment ago, was just about to reach out for the cup of coffee that hovered close to his board, the steam curling invitingly into the darkened space of his office when he felt something brush against his senses. Or should he say—someone.

He didn't bother turning around to confirm his suspicion. Picking up his mug to take a contemplative sip, he knew he didn't have to wait long before whomever it was that intruded on him to speak.

"_**No more partners."**_

The voice whispered from the darkest corner of the room which, he would've sworn to his dying breath, had been empty just a moment ago. But then again it was always like that when HE comes to visit. He comes in and out of the shadows like he was born from it. His voice slithers through the air, stealing close enough to be heard by those he wished to address before vanishing back into eerie silence just as stealthily. Nighttime visits with him always leaves one to wonder if they actually heard him or if they only succumbed to a figment of their own twisted imagination.

Genma didn't bother to turn his head around. He knew from experience that his erstwhile guest would only step out of his precious shadows if there was no other way to reach an intended target. _Or if curiosity overcame him enough to make him risk the light. _Not the curiosity ever took hold all that often. Oftentimes his nighttime callers preferred the anonymity provided by the shadows in the nooks and crannies that cradled them more securely than a lover. It was a quirk shared by the lot of them and those who waited in the offices learned how to deal with them as soon as possible or they get transferred into other, less stressful tasks in the organization.

It was an arrangement that he grew accustomed to over the course of many years of professional relationship. It was get used to it, quit, get fired or drown himself in regular overdose of paranoia pills to curve the urge to swing at every shadow that crept near. Good thing he actually liked the shadows himself. He didn't think there were enough pills in the entire Fire Nation to last him through retirement and he didn't fancy becoming a broke-ass lush so he decided to simply man up and get used to the heebie-jeebies.

It wasn't like he had a lot of choice in the matter and he absolutely refused to trouble himself with coming up with any other viable solution at the cost of his own personal down time. He could deal with the shitty heebie-jeebies just fine and if he sometimes couldn't, well there's always booze. What he couldn't fucking afford was to waste any time thinking of ways to do something about things he couldn't be bothered with.

"What happened to your current one?" he asked. _HE had to._ Standard Operating Procedure when you ran an operation like his. And despite the wackiness of their roster of employees—not even them could function without some kind of procedural process. Normally the people that crept into his office were pairs—very few—dare to come alone. It wasn't a sign of bravado or confidence when people appear alone. It had _'bad sign'_ written all over it when they do. It means someone screwed up and that he would have the unfortunate fate of cleaning up after it. And that was a really fucked up way to earn his undying ire.

The answer when it came was predictably brief.

'"Expired."

_**Expired**_. The senbon in his mouth flickered for a second as he bounced the word inside his head. A colorless terminology that did not so much as hint at the visceral truth that hid behind such simplistic phonological construct. _Expired. Extinguished. _In a far more vulgar parlance the term simply meant _**dead**_. The words change but the reality didn't. The manifold catchphrases of their chosen trade have expanded but not the stark truth that hid behind it.

"Did you do it?"

"What do you think?"

He plunged a hand at a towering pile of papers and folders perched precariously on his overburdened desk and extracted one with sure confidence. Flipping through the thin bound volume, he hummed thoughtfully as he scanned the pages and information therein.

"He tested highly in terms of cooperation and ability to follow orders."

The response he received was cold, succinct and edged. "They didn't test him for common sense and greed."

"Ah…well," Genma rubbed his nape and used the pen he stuck behind his left ear to make the necessary notation on the file, shaking his head the entire time. "I guess there is that. Don't worry, mate; I'll made a formal report of it."

"See that you do."

"What about the client? Or should I know better than ask?"

This time the reply came with its usual measured monotone but there was a pronounced chill, an icier edge actually, than it had been a second before, if that could be believed.

"The man on my list has been swabbed—_after a fashion_. I wouldn't have bothered coming back if that wasn't the case."

"Gave you a bit of problem didn't he?"

"Led me to a merry chase but that's to be expected. Something like that lived for the thrill of the hunt. I thought it only fair that I give as good as I got. That's courtesy right?"

"And we all know you're the very soul of propriety." Genma didn't bother masking his amusement, eyes crinkled just so to reveal his glee. "You vindictive bastard, you made him pay for running, didn't you?"

"What do you think?"

He resisted the urge to snort in derisive resignation. Tossing aside the file containing the recently expired partner after making his short notation, he carelessly pushed aside the piled up stacks of books, bound ledgers and crumpled, stained notes onto the floor, making a mental note to tack on a post-it for the cleaning crews and the morning clerks to attend to the matter. Desk now cleared and with space to work on, he chewed contemplatively on his senbon as he opened and closed a different set of drawers before finding the correct one. From its depths he hauled thick black binder. Genma glanced at the file opened in front of him, turned to the appropriate page and tapped the bound pages as he wrote those words on one corner of a legal-looking form with an absentminded hand.

_Swabbed after a fashion_. That means that the target actually had the guts to run and try to get away. _Fucking idiotic notion, but its not like he was the first one to think of it, the poor bastard_. A pointless exercise as far as Genma was concerned. The contract was undertaken by the **Raven** himself. There was but one expected ending to such a task.

_**Death.**_

The target must've realized that what came after it was no ordinary enforcer if it took only one contract to execute a favorable response. That's the only reason most of them run. They think if they do, they would increase their chance for surviving. Genma wished he could tell them it only pissed his agents off more. He added a few more words to the case file in front of him.

_**Expiration due to extreme aggression. Execution via lethal means. Standard post-swab op procedure.**_

"If I allow myself to think and contemplate the number of annoying madness and insanity that passes off for common sense amongst you guys, I would need a stiff drink and sex the moment I crank my eyes open in the morning."

"You try to get laid anyways even whether we have an assignment or not."

"True but then again, I don't get that stiff drink."

Something told him that his nighttime guest has moved from his original spot and perched somewhere farther from where his desk was positioned. Genma allowed his gaze to fall on the deep shadows of his balcony and wondered again why he bothered with an office with an actual door when no one of his many agents bothered to use it. More than half the agents he was directly in-charge of used the balcony as their point of entry. Not a few simply threw themselves in via the windows and some of the really dangerous ones had the nasty habit of materializing inside like some beleaguered phantom waiting to exact revenge upon his unsuspecting head. He argued with the Head-Honcho himself to be allowed a room with no doors but the man was adamant they maintain some semblance of normalcy. Genma chuckled for nearly ten minutes after hearing that statement. The old man should realize that in their business _no one_ ought to be normal.

"I can't believe you've stooped to reading that trash. I thought only Hound was that desperate."

He gave out a wicked chortle before sticking the pen he was writing with into his mouth, making the pen move up and down as he spoke.

"When I want your advice about what I should read, remind me to NOT ask you."

"Porn is not high-brow enough for you to get defensive."

"Says you. Besides, Hound does whatever the hell he wants and if porn is the way he would focus on something else, I say let him. I don't want to be the idiot that has to tell him he's got bad taste in literature."

"Fine. Would you mind sending over one of those chairs? My back is killing me and I need a chair."

Genma swore before kicking one of the swivel chairs towards the direction of the balcony. He waited for the squeak of the tires to be halted before continuing with his debriefing.

"You know you wouldn't have to suffer the pain if you'd just do the sensible thing and parked your stubborn ass in here where there's a perfectly good couch. Why do you guys always use that—there's a door for Rikudo's sake."

"Balcony is easier to gain access to. Quicker, more efficient—and no one sees when we come or go."

"Fine. Like I would bother to lecture you boneheads on something as mundane as saving your spine from early onset of Osteoporosis." Genma muttered. He waved the file he held aloft, "I know it would smack as a tad obsessive on my part but would you care to be more specific when you fill out your file later in the day? I don't want to have to bother having you tracked down just to get the nitty-gritty of this assignment down on paper when Ibiki starts grilling my ass for the lack of details."

"Fine."

"Expect the rest of the payment to be transferred to your account as soon as you leave this room. I had the bank waiting on standby. Anything else you would like for me to add before I finalize this report?"

When no response was forthcoming he simply opened one the many file cabinets that surrounded his mini island of a desk and shoved the folder in. He closed the drawer with a resolute kick and settled back against his battered office chair. He pinned the shadows where he approximated his guest to be with a surprised look.

"Now...that's one more thing done and over—what! You're still here? You want to tell me something?"

"I don't think I want another swab-job. Smacks at becoming too much like routine."

"You're getting bored at doing swabs?" he asked incredulously. The notion was unfathomable for both him and the one he was talking to. The Raven cannot be saying what he assumes he's saying—the man was too young and too good to retire and he wasn't—as yet—showing any of the tell-tale marks of an agent on the verge of burn-out or turning rouge. "You planning on retiring?"

The silence went ripe with the palpable air of derision and disbelief and for a moment Genma wished he had kept his mouth shut. It was damnably annoying having to figure out what would and wouldn't set of the trigger happy yahoos he worked with. The creature in front of him may not be one to talk his ear off (unlike some his other young agent) but he could say a whole damn lot even with his silence.

"I would do the other assignments but I would like to have a say on who I swab. At the very least I want to swab those that would actually know precisely what's coming to them."

"You could have a larger pay for the tougher ones to be sure—but they usually require a team not pairs or soloists. You will have to deal with significant pay cuts if none of the whackos appear on the grid."

"I understand and the pay won't be a problem. I would just do more jobs."

"Ibiki might take it upon his stubborn head to ask why. The Old Man too."

"They're both free to ask as much as I'm free enough to ignore them until they go away."

"Any reason for this change of preference?"

"Nothing really significant. Just felt that it was time."

The statement went through Genma like a bolt of lightning. It was the third time today that he heard those particular words coming out of the mouth of someone most people would never even consider to be the considering kind. _It had to be some kind of weird ass coincidence_. _Or he could see it as fate_. Something tells him that no matter what he decides to call it, somewhere, somehow, something has been set into motion. A slow sinister smile slashed across his thin pale lips until he finally gave in and chortled in wicked glee.

"It was time huh? Hell of a reason to want to quit scything through willing targets."

"Most of them were rather unwilling you know. All of them actually, except for the real basket cases that were clearly asking for it."

"Yeah, well there are some really sick bozos out there in the world."

Genma chuckled again and this time annoyance echoed clearly through his guests tone.

"Now that I managed to give you your daily dose of chuckles, can we attend to what I came here for? I don't want another partner. It's not an immediate concern but I would like to settle that addendum before the next client makes a demand. I don't like nor desire to clean up after idiots who don't have a fucking clue about what they're supposed to be doing."

"Hmm…" he murmured contemplatively.

"Is that a yes?"

"No…"

"So that's a no."

"No…"

Annoyance flicked through his guests voice once more. This time the edge of violence that the man kept so exquisitely leashed slipped a few careful notches enough to make Genma well aware of it. The tell-tale sound made him smile.

"I suggest you get to the point, you decrepit, orally-fixated fool. I didn't come here for rhetorical games. If you want to engage in that you should've schedule some personal time with Hound or the Commander himself. He delights in making people's head whirl with the obvious and the oblivious just to get his daily chuckles worth."

"Temper much?"

"I don't have one. If you want a display of temper, why don't you ask the Neanderthal you recently had me track down and later hired."

"Well, you're certainly making me think that you do."

This time it wasn't just a voice that came out to imply displeasure at his sudden inquisitive streak. His night-time guest materialized as if summoned from some dark, dangerous corner of hell. The figure stalked across his cluttered floor, hooked a leg through one of the stiff backed chairs that lined against the wall, straddled it and then pinned him with an unholy glare that spoke volumes of his irritation.

The face that darkness concealed so effectively and the light now caressed seemed like that of a carven doll. Sharp, clean-cut features created the perfect foil for the shock of ebony silk hair that flowed like a wave and those chillingly haunting, intense black eyes that reflected red in certain lights. Genma's guest was a study of contrasts—from his shockingly vivid coloring to the completely black ensemble that he wore to highlight the fit and well-tone body he possessed. The black form-fitting suit hinted more about the guest's occupation more than anything else. It was smooth, made of Kevlar and lined with what looked at first like red trim—that is unless he moved. When he does, the seemingly safe red trim glittered like lit fires, revealing that they were not harmless cloth but rather blades that could be stealthily drawn from all sides.

"Got tired of lounging like a lizard sunning on my balcony?"

"It's the dead of night unless you're blind as well as foolish. I wanted to be near enough not to exert effort if I decided killing you would be more efficient than having to listen to your twaddle all night."

"I'll say it again brat—temper much?"

"I want an answer to the question I posed."

"Sleep is what you need."

"I sleep."

Genma nodded and asked as if it was an afterthought though the hawk-like intensity of his gaze beneath his lashes proved his interest to be anything but casual.

"When's the last time you slept?"

"Why the sudden interest in my sleeping habits all of a sudden?" the voice, through the same monotonous inflection still conveyed enough defiance and annoyance at being questioned to make Genma smirk and continue on.

"Do you sleep at all?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"When? At night. Whenever I have the time. When there is an opportunity."

"And when was the last time you deemed it to be an opportune moment?"

"This is not an inquisition on my sleeping habits. I only wanted to know if there was a possibility that I would be saddled with an idiotic partner before my next assignment so that I would have the time to decline. I want solo assignments."

"I'll see what I can do about that."

The response broke the tense aura that pervaded the room just moments ago. This time, when he spoke, there was a curious sense of intrigue and interest in Genma's voice that told his guest what he was saying wasn't something to be taken lightly.

"Hey…can I ask you a question? Purely hypothetical you understand, but I would really like to know what you think."

"Ask away. It's not like I have anything pressing to take care of."

"What would you say if I tell you that I'm thinking of leaving the organization?"

"Three things." His guest slid a hand along an arm guard casually as if brushing away specks of dust. When he raised his hand, a glittering ebony and crimson kunai twirled gracefully around his index finger. "One, you're trying to test me because someone asked you to-in which case they must be utter idiots. Two, you want to piss me off because you're bored and you haven't found a new plaything to experiment on. Or three, you've some kind of weird chemical floating in your system and it's finally affecting your brain enough to make you dumber than you already look. Personally, I think you should call a halt on siphoning off the crazy juice. That, along with whatever stimulant you have swimming in your weird ass constitution might make me a tad leery. You, better than most, should know the one cardinal truth in this place. No one can leave the organization. No one willingly leaves the organization."

'What if it could be done—no, what if it would be done? What would you say then?"

"Hypothetically? First, I'd ask how I could be done in the first place. I have a few rules to live by and one of those rules states that I never take on anything I haven't betted as thoroughly as a Caesar's wife. The second thing I would think about is what's in it for you."

"You're one paranoid bastard."

"I was raised and fed on paranoia by the most suspicious, skeptical genius on the planet."

"And that's probably the best reason I have for liking you."

"I'm actually disgusted by that statement beyond imagining. Don't make me lose my appetite. I haven't had dinner yet and I have it on good authority I can be a right cranky bastard when I'm hungry. Now do you actually have a point for this hypothetical question or are you going to answer mine instead?"

"You're no fun in this current mood of yours. Fine. Let me answer the second question first."

"Don't rupture a neuron while you're at it."

"Don't be snippy. The reason is simple. Independence."

He knew the simple words would translate far more when spoken to this particular one. Only those who dwell in the deepest, dankest corner of the organization understood what the word stood for. It was not something they talked about openly, but it was something fundamental inside all of them."

"And the first question?"

"Two words, my friend. Leverage and manpower."

"And how do you get about getting it done?"'

"First, we need the manpower. When we have that—I could start targeting for the leverage."

"Hn."

"So what do you say?"

His guest came to his feet with the languid smooth grace of a predator lazily coming awake. It belied the sheer strength it would take to execute the maneuver so effortlessly-especially when one carries a virtual armory on one's body.

"I want a better deal when they start assigning my wages. The first deal I signed sucked like wet galoshes on a frigid swamp."

"Deal."

He walked towards the balcony once more before pausing at the threshold to glance back and pin Genma with his unfathomable crimson gaze.

"And oh, while you're at it, tell my brother he should consider recruiting that Shadow agent. That would be hitting twin targets with one bad-ass stone. I'm sure that would get you manpower and the kind of leverage no one but the top man himself could contest."

"The only question is—would the Shadow even consider."

"Why wouldn't he? Wasn't he on the list my brother gave you when he proposed it to you?"

"Damn. How did you find out?"

"I didn't but you managed to confirm it right now."

"You scary bastard."

"Yeah, yeah. I've heard people say that. I try not to take it personally."

Genma chuckled and bending down, scooped up a book that fell on the wayside.

"I just bet they do."

The words echoed loudly in the room and caused goosebumps to erupt on his skin. Genma didn't bother to look up. As surely as he knows the truth of the book lying innocuously in his hand was real, he knows too the undeniable truth that the room was now empty. His guest vanished just as quietly as he had come.

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><p><em><strong>4:30 A.M.<strong>_

_**The Crooked Kunai**_

**Namikaze Uzumaki Naruto is trying desperately to channel the goddess of the quintessential biker-chick-gone-wild. That or an escapee from the nearest goth mental hospital.**

At least he looked the part of someone suffering from some majorly serious personal issues. Otherwise, why would he, a sane man of legal age and reasonably sane frame of mind, be in such a place? A place even the cheapest cockroach would look down on? A bar that advertises that it's "_the place where the sun will never shine_"? Wearing, of all things, something that deserved to be relegated to the realms of a Halloween costume's purgatory?

The tight, randomly slashed black leather vest left a good eight inches of his skin from under his breastbone to the dip of his navel bare, exposing the intricate lines of his birthmark to every Tom, Dick and Wall-eyed Wally that would bother to take a look. He was desperate to take a deep breath to calm his nerves but doing so would take more daring than even he could spare for this one night.

Every time he attempted to do so, the lower half of his questionable outfit slid into the realm of risqué—yielding precious precarious centimeters with even the smallest of inhalation. He had to forcibly restrain an agonized groan from escaping his tightly clamped lips as he recalled the conversation that led to his current outfit.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Flashback to two nights ago…<strong>_

_The news he'd been waiting for finally came. The only problem was that there was no way he would pass as a patron of the local denizens of the hovel-pretending-to-be-a-bar where his target currently resides. In his panicked desperation he sought the counsel of the only people who could offer him viable solution. He called up his old roommates from his university days to come to his apartment and asked for their help in dressing the part. It was an occasion that taught him a very valuable lesson._

"_Why can't I go there as I am? I think I look well enough." he muttered mutinously as he looked down on the black jeans, burnt orange jacket and white button-down shirt he wore. He looked up at the muffled laughter that broke over his friends. "Hey! Stop making fun of my clothes! It suits me just fine!"_

_Zabuza gave out derisive snort. "Yeah, it should, if this was some Sunday school outing. Newsflash, Ramen-boy, this isn't some field trip down Prudery Lane. Your current assignment resides in a dive I wouldn't even call a bar unless I was truly desperate. And I pray to the gods I never will be."_

"_He's right Naru. No one in that place would even give you the time of day dressed as you are. Chances are you'll get picked on and punched before you get through the front door. I doubt you'll even get to the door."_

_He pouted when he noted the clearly bemused look that reflected on Haku's gorgeous face. Haku was blessed with the kind of beauty that attracted both genders though he veered towards using the more effeminate of his charms despite his masculine biology. Coupled with his preference for avant-garde styled kimonos and evocative, elegant jewelry, Haku was a vision worthy of garnering looks. Long, thick mahogany strands that fell to nearly his hips in a straight, shining curtain, pale flawless skin, deep dark brown eyes and a soft lilting voice lent an air of fragility and vulnerability to Haku that never failed to arouse his protective instincts. Never mind that Haku had black belt and in three types of martial arts and could render a man an eunuch with a skillful application of acupuncture needles. Nevermind what the man's lover would do to anyone who even looks at Haku funny. For him, it was the principle of the thing._

"_Then what do you suggest I do?"_

_Zabuza exchanged a look with Haku that made his inside flutter like a cage of birds suddenly seeing a leering predator come close. He desperately wanted to punch the lights out of Zabuza grinning mug but he had a feeling it would only make things worse. His spiky mane of black locks and dark eyes complimented with his muscular physique and dark skin tone lent Zabuza a wild air of a born danger-lover. His tall, muscled figure also made his clothes seem so much more than the black tank top, leather jacket, steel-toed boots and jeans that they usually are. Sandwiched between the two of them Naruto felt like the resident nerd set smack in the center of a fashion shoot._

"_How badly do you want to get in?" Zabuza gruffed, ruffling wild hair as he spoke, tugging at the piercings that was lined up his ears. The man had more piercing than anyone Naruto has ever met and wonders often it the man sets off alarms every time he walks through metal detectors._

"_Bad enough to call Haku and you clown to help me. Seriously guys—this is a onetime opportunity. I've been looking for this thing my whole life—I have to get in there and find out if there's any truth to that rumor."_

"_This rumor—is it any good?" Haku asked as he gently dried the hair he insisted Naru needed to wash that night. His hair was beginning to get too long and he wondered if he should cut it. Fingering the strands he muttered to Haku from beneath the ruffling of the towel._

"_Yeah. I got the tip from one of my regular crypt rats. They maybe shady when it comes to provenance but their rumor mill is worth its weight in whatever's being traded. The time frame I've been given can only extend for so long and I really don't have the time to do anything else. Please, you guys. You know I wouldn't have asked if there was any other choice."_

_Zabuza looked at him with a contemplative look on his face._

"_This is your father's fucked up version of graduation test isn't it?"_

_Naruto wanted to duck his head in chagrin but he decided that to do so would be an act of shame and he had nothing to be ashamed of. Not yet anyways. He gave Zabuza a thumbs up and brilliant grin that nearly rivaled the sun._

"_You know it, my friend."_

"_Idiot."_

"_Hey!"_

_Haku hushed them up with a look. "Naru, seriously—this quest—why is it so personal for you? There are many things you can test your skills out on. Why something so shady and so unreliable as this one?"_

"_I've my reasons—!"_

"_Tell me this isn't about pride."_

"_Not—okay, not entirely pride. But you know my motto right? The one I've lived with since I earned my degree?"_

_The two of them exchanged rueful looks before Zabuza spoke once again._

"_We know all about your lame-ass credo."_

"_Hey that is not lame, Sharky!"_

_Zabuza waved away his indignation with a lazy turn of a hand. _

"_Yeah, yeah I heard you. So, this place is a cheap-ass biker hangout. How hard can it be to get in?"_

"_Zabuza look at me. There's no way I can figure out what to wear there. Dad really wasn't big on the whole let's dress up and go party scene while I was growing up. With us, it's more along the lines of 'how do we make ourselves invisible' kind of thing okay? How the hell am I supposed to know what bikers wear when they go trolling out?"_

"_Why do you want to go there anyways Naru chan? I don't like that place, its stinks worse than three week-old garbage! And I should know—this foolish man of mine has dragged me around to places with older garbage when we were still on the lam—and believe me, the smell doesn't wash off that easily."_

_Haku shot a glance at Zabuza who was already sputtering in indignation, staring at the diminutive young man with an incredulous look in his dark eyes._

"_Oh come on, you're still griping over that? That happened nearly five years ago already!"_

"_It doesn't matter how long ago it was! That little side-trip ruined my best moccasin boots and I've yet to find anything to replace it!"_

_Naruto had to laugh. It's been a few months since he last saw these two but their vivid personalities remain as original and refreshing as they ever. Zabuza said whatever comes to his mind without a care in the world. It was a refreshing contrast to the controlled, painfully correct and proper world he was normally forced dwelled in. Still the words brought a sad gleam to his cerulean eyes._

_Reaching out, he clasped a hand around Haku's wrist and gave it a squeeze. _"_I'm sad that you've had to stay in such places Haku-chan. If Dad and I had known—!"_

_Haku gave the wistful looking blonde a pat on the shoulder before smiling gently at him, brushing his knuckles gently across a golden cheek._

"_Oh I didn't mind it so much Naru-chan—well, excepting the ruining of my boots. Zabuza and I didn't suffer for long. Just another thing we had to go through. Just an assignment, like all the rest It was a piece of cake and we did get paid rather well for that turn."_

_Zabuza snorted at the duos emotional display and proceeded to cut the drama short by kicking the blond's leg just enough to make him hop._

"_Enough melodrama. I swear, you two should've been born with tits and bits and bobs with the way you two mope. Now back to the matter on hand. Getting this shindig on the road before I die of old age."_

_Haku nodded, tapping a finger on his bottom lip as he gazed contemplatively at the suddenly nervous looking blond. "I suggest that you allow us to outfit you with the proper accoutrement. It wouldn't do to blow your cover just because you stand out like a sore thumb." _

_Zabuza leered at Naruto and gave him a close-up view of his serrated teeth. "Especially with you wearing your good-girl-goes-to-Sunday-school get-up, Sunshine. That just wouldn't do."_

_He almost choked on his outrage and he rushed to arrest the wicked gleam of deviousness sparkling in the two lover's amused gaze._

"_Oh no! I agree on the idea of dressing so that I would blend in but I refuse to turn this into some kind of fetish fashion show for you two loons. Looking the part would make getting in easier and make it harder for witnesses to pin down an exact description if it comes down to it. Any suggestions then?"_

"_Leave it to us. We won't fail you. You will knock 'em them for sure." Zabuza gave him a wicked grin and it left Naruto feeling like he just might've sold his soul to the devil without knowing it. It certainly didn't help when Haku gave him a serene, albeit doubly frightening smile._

"_Yeah Naru-chan. Leave it to Zaza and me. We know exactly what to do."_

* * *

><p><em><strong>END FLASHBACK<strong>_

**Leave it to them, my ass. I will never again agree to shop with those two. They have the fashion sense of a street thug on drugs. Just look at this outrageous get up they made me wear. It looks like I filched my clothes from a scrap heap.**

The slinky scrap of black material he would not dignify with the term 'skirt' barely covered more than two palms' worth of space leaving him to wonder if the salespeople they bought it from mistakenly labeled it as such rather than as a wide belt which it resembled more prominently.

The only comfort he had regarding the whole ensemble was the fact that he got to keep his titanium-enforced gloves and boots on. The simple accoutrements made him feel a little less than wholly naked—and it's a feeling he was certain wasn't brought about by the scant measure of cloth that presently covers his shivering body.

No, the strange frisson of vulnerability he knows well enough comes from the knowledge that tonight is a test. One he couldn't afford to fail. A test that could possibly give him the way to achieve the very thing that he has been craving for ever since he could remember—a chance. Tonight, his father's strict training wheels would finally be shed off—the endless weeks of training and simulations and studying to prove that he could do what his father adamantly refuse to allow him to be. The sweat and tears and blood that he poured in all his training throughout his childhood would be finally paid off after he accomplishes this final test. No matter what happens he will not allow himself to fail.

The last month had been spent in an agony of waiting and frustration. All his research and all his meticulous planning dwindled into nothing substantial beyond the odd rumor or two. The book seemed to have come to existence only to fade into the realm of legends and hearsay just as quickly. Then suddenly, someone somewhere overheard a conversation between a local thug and a seedy purveyor of stolen goods and dubious fences. According to the local crypt rat—shady individuals that troll the graveyards in order to find stolen goods—the book came out of hiding when the local hermit finally cocked up his toes and his estate passed into the hands of the avaricious heirs. The book was apparently overlooked and as such ended up in the hands of the local mafia king who prided himself on his collection oddities related to the macabre. And although he usually preferred rare death scrolls and the more mundane daggers and weapons of war, this time around he formed an unlikely attachment for the near-mythical volume despite not knowing entirely what it's all about.

He heard the news during one of her regular patrols around the local pawnshops and antique shops. Though relegated as a vague rumor not even worthy of any attention, it riveted him like nothing else. Tonight might prove to be the book's first sighting since the last documented owner claimed the famed volume. He couldn't let this chance slip from his grasp. He finally—after all this time—has the opportunity to gain everything he ever dreamed of. Only a fool would let such a chance pass by. And his Dad certainly didn't raise a fool—had disastrous relations with one, true—but not raise one.

He will retrieve the one book that even his own father, renowned book thief that he was, couldn't. It would seal his transition from his father's apprentice to being a real pro himself. He will do anything—even go through hell itself to get his target.

He will get his hands on the most elusive book of all in all of the Elemental Nations. By the end of this night, the famed Book of the Six Paths will be his.


End file.
